


Hatefully Perfect

by Frazi



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Angst, F/M, One-Sided Attraction, Pining, Romance, Songfic, demons love different, inner monologue, introspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:48:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26546263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frazi/pseuds/Frazi
Summary: You're no good for me, I'm no good for you - Mammon reflects on his human.
Relationships: Main Character & Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Main Character/Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!) & Reader, Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Original Character(s), Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Original Female Character(s), Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 68





	Hatefully Perfect

**Author's Note:**

> The First time I heard the song 'Perfect for me' by Justin Timberlake, I couldn't stop seeing Mammon in my head and it would pull something so painfully sweet inside me. I couldn't not write this. If this love between a demon and human was one-sided, I can almost hear Mammon think everything that I wrote here. I might write another answer from my MC's perspective. Let's see.

God has a sick sense of humor.

It would be a thousand years. Maybe a millennia but nothing would change. I would be Mammon, Avatar of Greed, second strongest demon in all of Devildom. And she would be the heedless, vile, self-important…but completely mine, human.

The first time I realized what it would all mean for her – it left me staggered for days. The force of it was much more oppressive and stifling than my own epiphany weeks ago: The Human meant something to me.

To be honest, it doesn’t really matter what she means to me, just that she does. In the grand scheme of all things hell, it is immaterial why I want her. I want in immoderation. But need…oh need is something much worse. Need breaks things. It cracks you open down the fleshy confines of your body and hooks you where your soul is the most vulnerable. And I have none.

She does.

The gravity of my dilemma is what is staggering. It is the reason I hesitate, even though hesitation is not a virtue of greed. But despite my need to claim. To possess. To decimate all that stand in the way of my want. I watch her from afar. So ephemeral in her existence is she, that I can’t help feel like the violator. The defiler of all things sacred. No fallen angel status could conceal the fact that I am all demon. And she…she’s perfect.

Damn, but it hurts.

Nothing could be more excruciating than watching her smile. Because whoever made that divine weapon, it was meant to break the strongest of demons. It lights something so hideously exquisite inside her that she becomes golden. And I see nothing else. Like sunshine and Grimm and everything that is meant to bring me to my knees! To make me greed for the way she shines. It pulls on that god-damned invisible chain that now wraps around my undead, black demon heart. Tearing through the flesh of my sternum, it coils around her tiny little finger. The smallest, most delicate, heinous human part of her that she all but flicks and I am torn asunder.

Worse still, is that they all see it. It is more than the childish pact I made. It is real and horrifying and ugly. They tease, they joke, but under it all I see the onset of fear. Of apprehension. Of foreboding. Because the truth is Greed doesn’t understand the concept of letting go. There is no doubt in my mind. And yet I hesitate, because where an eternity for me would mean forever. For my human, it could be damnation.

So I see the way she walks through our halls, speaking with my brothers, touching everything in her silly humanly possessive way. The way she laughs and turns everything upside down. The way her tears make the clouds keen with pain. The way her restful sleep puts my world on hold. And I am wracked with guilt. Because despite how much time I’m allowing her to enjoy her freewill and freedom, I know it. She looks at me and I know it.

I love her.

I know what she needs and I _need_ to give it to her, but I don’t know _how_.

I know nothing of love. It isn’t a privilege ever shared with our kind. We might pretend at it. But our brand of love is always possession. Of bondage. Of servitude. Of death. But this girl…she demands something teeth-grindingly sweet from me. And I don’t know how to give it to her even though every fiber of my being strains to provide. It is a novel, unsettling and unwelcome concept. I want to give. I want to give her the love she would need…if she knew only that I wanted to give it to her.

But I don’t know how. And there is no demon in all the realms who would be able to tell me. No angel who wouldn’t strike me down for wanting to claim something so simple and pure. No human who would believe that I love her enough to keep my distance.

The ever-nights in devildom are hard. Hardest when I stand in the darkness of her bedroom, watching the way the fake moonlight and starlight play across her face. Like diamond dust of the finest karats, disturbingly beckoning, taunting, hauntingly beautiful. It is a gut-wrenching and near bleeding need to climb into bed with her. To wrap around her with promises of protection and forever and sweet nothings. But I don’t know how. Those are all human words.

If I used my own. If I told her of hunger and bloodletting and the depravity of touching her soul with my claws, fangs. Tasting her desires on my tongue…she would run. She would hate me. And I hate that it still doesn’t matter. She will still be mine.

So I fade back to my own room, my teeth throbbing, cutting into my own flesh instead. Greeding, screeching against each other for a taste of her innocence. And no Grimm in all the realms can keep me off my knees as I wail at how hatefully perfect we could be. Would be. If only…

_I hate that you're perfect, perfect for me  
_ _If I didn't know better, then I would believe  
_ _We were made for each other  
_ _But I'd know the truth  
_ _You're no good for me, I'm no good for you  
_ _And I hate that you're perfect, you're perfect for me_  
"Perfect For Me" by Justin Timberlake OST "Trolls World Tour"

THE END


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